Janice Johnson - Match Made in Court

He reached for his cell phone. The attorney would want to know that Hanna’s aunt was now refusing him contact with his niece. This new circumstance was reason enough to push for a hearing as soon as possible.

He didn’t know how he’d survive until then, unable to see his only family in the world, unable to talk to the one person who had seemed to understand what he felt.

Now his enemy.

My fault.

INEVITABLY, LINNEA SAW Matthew at Tess’s funeral.

The police had finally released her body. Matthew had made the arrangements, although he did call Linnea’s mother several times to consult her. Instead of being grateful for his courtesy, she was furious that he’d had any voice at all in his sister’s disposition.

He must have known Finn would attend the funeral, if only as a public-relations ploy. Linnea immediately felt bad, thinking that; neither Finn nor Tess had ever given any indication that their marriage was anything but happy, despite their heated arguments. Linnea had assumed that was their way of communicating. One she would hate, but that both of them seemed to find stimulating. Finn’s grief had to be genuine.

The police detective attended both the church service and the graveside ceremony. He stayed at Matt’s elbow through both, she noticed. Maybe she wasn’t the only one afraid of a horrible confrontation. If fists flew at graveside, it might not look good for Finn. Or would he be seen as a victim?

Thank goodness, nothing happened. The two men stayed well away from each other, although several times she turned her head to see Matt staring with burning hatred at her brother. Once, Detective Delaney spoke in a low voice to him and he abruptly turned away.

She, of course, stood at her brother’s side, holding Hanna’s hand, their parents on his other side. This was the first time Hanna had seen her father since Tess’s death. He made a show of keeping a hand on her shoulder throughout, the concerned father to any observers. Hanna moved robotically, as though she was present in body only, and not in spirit. She stared blankly at her mother’s coffin. The service had been closed casket, for which Linnea was grateful in one way. But could a child Hanna’s age believe her mother really was in that shiny box? And if she did believe it, would she picture her scrabbling to get out? The only death Hanna had ever seen was Confetti’s, and whether she had the capacity to imagine her mother so still and stiff and cold, Linnea didn’t know.

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